


Safety in These Arms of Mine

by Snoffy



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang & Zuko (Avatar) Friendship, Aang gets sung to sleep because he deserves it, Big Brother Zuko (Avatar), Found Family, Gen, Post-Episode: s03e14-15 The Boiling Rock, Sibling Bonding, Western Air Temple, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28779360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoffy/pseuds/Snoffy
Summary: Aang and Zuko bond while on a tour around the Western Air Temple. Featuring two animal lovers, fruit pies and lullabies.
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 211
Collections: AtLA <10k fics to read





	Safety in These Arms of Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who got hit by big brother Zuko feels :D
> 
> Set a few days after Boiling Rock.

“Again.”

Aang let out a sigh of frustration before beginning the kata anew, beads of sweat glinting on his forehead in the soft early morning light. Zuko watched on impassively as he tracked every move Aang made with a critical gaze.

“Ah, stop there. Found your problem; your right foot needs to be pointed a little more inwards.”

Aang groaned. “Does it really matter? I can do the rest of it just fine.”

“You can,” Zuko agrees, “but in battle, every little move counts. Your stance isn’t as firm if your foot isn’t in a good position. It’ll be easier for your opponent to sweep you off your feet. So do it again.”

Aang grumbled a little more before starting his seventh attempt of the morning. While he was a generally attentive and hardworking student, he did seem a little more despondent today, Zuko noticed.

Regardless, Aang started back up again, although with significantly less pomp than his first few tries. This time, Aang pointed his foot correctly but on the last stretch of the kata where he had to leap forwards, he landed heavily, no trace of his usual light-footedness present.

Zuko frowned. Leaps and jumps came naturally to Aang as an airbender, but whatever was on his mind, it was weighing him down not just metaphorically but also literally.

“Is something wrong?” Zuko asked hesitantly, wary of breaching the topic. Comfort didn’t come easy to him, not like anger. And he’d learned from the silver sandwich stint that his advice should usually be taken with a grain of salt.

“It’s just –” Aang bit his lip, looking away. “I know I was the one who suggested coming to the Western Air Temple, but it’s hard sometimes. Staying here. Where my people used to…” he couldn’t manage to choke out the words. “I guess I’m feeling a little homesick. Even though I am at home.”

Zuko didn’t know what to say in response to that. Aang took his silence as confusion, as he quickly followed up with, “Sorry, I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“No, no.” Zuko assured. “No, I just – I get what you mean. The palace never truly felt like a home in a long time. I thought it was what I wanted – to go home – but when I was actually there, I just –” he exhaled shakily, “- it wasn’t the home I thought I was coming back to.”

Aang nodded solemnly, empathy shining clear in his eyes. “I’m sorry you felt that way. I guess I had the same expectations too, when we came here…” he trailed off, gazing into the far distance where the lush green forest sprawled miles around the temple. “It’s still a home though, it’s got all the rooms and areas that I grew up with. And it’s nice to share with other people, even if it isn’t exactly the same as before.”

Zuko had been in the Western Air Temple before of course, during his initial year of banishment when he was desperate for any clues that could lead to finding the Avatar. He’d explored nearly every nook and cranny of the temple, secretly admiring the admittedly ingenious hiding spot of the entire structure as well as the architecture of the buildings, beautiful despite the horrific genocide that occurred within the crumbling walls.

But it was an entirely new experience to have someone with knowledge of the culture to show him around. A certain someone who looked desperate for a distraction. Someone burning with a desire to share his culture, thought to be long forgotten and lost _but no, it’s still right here because_ I’m _still here –_

“Can you… show me around the temple?” Zuko asked tentatively, nervous about overstepping his boundaries. He mentally breathed a sigh of relief as Aang immediately perked up, his whole face brightening as he grabbed Zuko by the arm and raced off, dragging him inside the temple.

Aang zipped them through a series of corridors, making sharp twists and turns as Zuko did his best to keep up with his sudden bout of energy.

“These were the bathhouses,” Aang announced as they moved in through a large, crumbling opening in the wall. The room itself was spacious; stone baths large enough for groups of people to wash at one time were scattered around the room. The back wall was lined with wash basins, cracked along the edges but still mostly intact. Vines had climbed their way up the walls, tracing along the crevices and gouges. Zuko’s heart twanged at the state of what once was no doubt a magnificent structure.

“It’s nice,” he managed, taking in the sights. Aang beamed and opened his mouth to say more, but they were both startled by a suddenly rustling in the corner. Their heads whipped around in unison, only to see that in one of the towel cabinets, there was a pile of moss and leaves lining its floor. And the pile was moving. Aang flitted over immediately, keeping his footsteps light and silent.

“Zuko! Zuko! Look! It’s a family of possum ferrets!” Aang squealed, barely managing to keep his voice hushed.

Zuko meandered over, crouching down next to the other boy. A fond smile twitched at his lips as he gazed upon two adult possum ferrets staring curiously up at them while curled protectively around one, two, three, _four_ kits.

“They’re _sooo_ cute,” Aang cooed, reaching out with one finger and letting the parents sniff at him cautiously.

“Docile, too.” Zuko remarked. “Haven’t tried to bite you yet.”

Aang laughed, bright and chipper. “I bet if I give them food, they’ll let me hold one of the babies.” He rustled through his clothing eagerly, but quickly deflated when he realized something.

“Oh, monkey feathers! I don’t have any food on me.” Aang pouted, turning his pockets inside out as he futilely rooted them for any semblance of a crumb or scrap. Zuko chuckled, pulling out a chunk of bread from one of his inner pockets.

“Calm down, I’ve got something.” He tore the bread into two pieces, handing the larger half to Aang. “Here, it’s a good thing I saved this from breakfast, huh?”

Aang grinned, taking the bread with reverence. He crumbled a small chunk from the main piece and held it out to one of the adults with bated breath. The possum ferret sniffed, nose twitching in interest, and nabbed it from his fingers with tiny teeth.

“I think you just fed the mother,” Zuko mused, taking a closer look at the bundle of fur. “See those markings on her back? That tells you it’s a female.”

“Really?” Aang asked, staring wide-eyed. “Where did you learn that from?”

Zuko shrugged self-consciously. “My mother was a huge fan of animals. Sometimes we’d go to the library and spend hours just looking at scrolls about all sorts of animals from different parts of the world. It was just one of the things I picked up, I guess.”

“That’s so cool!” Aang cheered. Zuko smiled back and nudged his own chunk of bread towards the father, who had perked up once he saw they had offerings of food. It took almost the entire piece of bread Zuko had brought, but eventually they didn’t nip at their fingers when they tried to get closer to the kits.

“We should name them,” Aang declared decisively, cradling one of the babies closely in his arms. At this point they were both sitting cross-legged on the floor with the kits burrowed within the folds of their clothing. The mother possum ferret had opted for curling up in Zuko’s lap once she discovered how much warmth was emanating from him and the father lay on the ground between them, paws neatly tucked under his chest. “This one can be called Tara, and one of her brothers could be Sok.”

“Following your line of thought, I’m guessing you’d like the third one to be called Suk.” Zuko replied, amused. “But the last one’s a boy. I don’t think he’d appreciate being called Toph.”

“He can’t have the same name as Toph anyway,” Aang nodded seriously.

“How about Tough?” Zuko chuckled, picking up the kit and bumping noses with him. “Tough little guy, just like Toph.”

“It’s perfect!” Aang beamed. “Okay, so that’s Tara, Sok, Suk, and Tough. What about the mom and dad?”

“Um…” Zuko mumbled, putting Tough back down into his lap and looking around for inspiration. Chipped baths, crumbling walls, cracked floors. The occasional weed sprouted here and there where the tiles had been upended to reveal the dirt underneath.

“Daisy? For the mom,” he suggested. Aang flashed a grin of approval.

“What about the dad?”

Zuko looked around some more. Sunlight streamed in through cracks in the ceiling, highlighting the dust motes that drifted throughout the building.

“Dusty? He, uh, looks grey all over. A bit like he went rolling around in the dust.”

“He does!” Aang exclaimed in delight, tickling the male possum ferret’s chin. “Dusty and Daisy and their four children. One big happy family!”

Zuko smiled. Small and soft, albeit a little hesitant. But it was getting easier and easier by the day to let it spread across his face. Just another thing he’s been getting better at since he’d turned his back on Fath- Fire Lord Ozai.

“We can’t tell Sokka,” Aang gasped, suddenly whirling around to look at Zuko with intense urgency. “He’ll want to eat them.”

Zuko choked down a bout of mirthful laughter. “Of course,” he grinned, “it’ll be our little secret. We can’t let big bad Sokka catch wind of this.” He cooed, running a finger gently along one of the kit’s back.

Aang shot him a conspiratorial wink and carefully began placing the possum ferrets back into their nest. “Come on, we better get going if you want the full tour.”

The next area of the temple they headed to ended up being the kitchens. A wide, circular room with looming ducts and vents traversing up the walls so that steam and smoke could billow out into the open space outside. The kitchens were surprisingly left untouched; the large clay ovens looked like they could still be used after a good scrubbing and the pantries were still in good shape. 

“We used our bending with the billows to keep the temperature perfect for making fruit pies.” Aang explained. “See, you need a constant, even heat to make sure the crust is golden and flaky. It made a good exercise for beginner airbenders. And at the end, you get to eat the fruit pies! They were the best. You know, it shouldn’t be too hard to make them. Especially not when you’ve joined the group! You can heat up the ovens and I’ll handle the circulation bit; we can make pies for everyone! I bet Momo would go crazy for them, he’s always stealing the fruits right off the trees even though I make sure to pick enough for both him and Appa –”

Zuko tried to follow along. He really did. But when Aang started a spiel about ventilation systems, his mind started drifting off on its own. It wasn’t just him, though. Aang had also completely derailed from his original explanation of how the ovens worked. The bit about pies though…

“The next time we go to a town, I’ll make sure we get some flour and whatever else you need to make them.” He cut in. Aang paused in the middle of his ramble to cast him a surprised, but grateful look.

“Oh, thanks! That’d be great; it’ll be a good treat for everyone.” Then he bit his lip, casting a nostalgic gaze at the ovens.

“There’s this other thing I’ve been really craving.” He sighed, looking a little downtrodden. “Butter cookies. They’re really easy to make, and they’re the best thing to pair with a good cup of tea. But you need to use golden cane sugar to get the perfect texture and flavour. One time I asked Katara if we could buy just a little, but it was so expensive and she said we couldn’t afford it. I know sugar’s a bit of a luxury thing for us ‘cause we don’t need it as much as salt or whatever, but – but it’d be nice to taste Air Nomad food again.”

Now that hit a little too close to home. Zuko wouldn’t be able to tell you how many times over his three-year banishment he’d desperately been craving authentic Fire Nation food. Any port they stopped at, any colony they visited, any passing trading ship they’d hailed down; he and Uncle would keep an eye for any mainland Fire Nation spices or delicacies. Very rarely would they find anything promising. Even rarer did the cook manage to replicate the taste exactly.

He dipped his hand into one of his hidden pockets and fished out a gold coin. A trip to the royal treasury before he fled from his country ensured that he had enough money to live in relative comfort for at least a couple months. And now a coin from the nation that devastated Aang’s could hopefully bring him a little comfort. He gently grabbed one of Aang’s hands and unfurled it carefully.

“Here,” he said, pressing the coin into Aang’s palm. “This should get you your sugar. It’s important you get to enjoy your culture.”

Aang stared up at him with a wide-eyed gray stare, as if he couldn’t comprehend someone would be willing to indulge in his craving for butter cookies.

It wasn’t just a cookie though. He knew it. Zuko knew it. And maybe that’s why Zuko doesn’t tease him for tearfully wrapping his arms around him and thanking him with breathless gasps and choked happiness.

“It’s… it’s not much, really.” Zuko still said awkwardly. “I wish I could do more for you. You know – since it was kind of my family’s fault that…”

_‘Oh Agni,’_ he thought, mortified. _‘Stop talking. He doesn’t need a reminder.’_

But Aang only put his hands on his shoulders and levelled him with a serious gaze. “Zuko. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I still feel like it is,” Zuko mumbled numbly. “Sozin’s blood runs through my veins.”

“But you’re here now,” Aang interrupted, “and that’s what matters, blood or not. I’m glad you’re here.” He said sincerely, large eyes brimming with earnest gratitude.

“Thank you,” Zuko murmured around the lump in his throat. “… Thank you.”

“Come on,” Aang smiled brightly, giving him a few pats on the shoulder. “There’s another place I really wanna show you.”

He skipped off merrily, and the leaves rustling in his wake seemed to beckon Zuko onwards. 

The last room they visited housed a giant Pai Sho board. Much like the kitchens, this room was also largely intact. Aang chittered happily away at Zuko’s side, describing how as a child, he’d watch Gyatso play on this very board whenever they had reason to visit the Western Air Temple. But to Zuko, seeing a Pai Sho board now only brought back bitter memories.

“Uncle would’ve adored this place,” he whispered, fragile and raw. Aang looked crestfallen, casting sad eyes to the ground. Zuko inwardly cursed; the whole point of this tour was to cheer up his student, not drag him into his own issues. He cleared his throat.

“He’ll be beyond himself once he hears that you play Pai Sho too,” Zuko amended, putting emphasis on the implication of a _when_ and not a _what could have been_. Aang smiled back tentatively.

“Gyatso used to cheat all the time with his airbending. It wasn’t like he needed it either, he could beat pretty much anyone even if he didn’t cheat!”

Zuko huffed a soft laugh. “Sounds like something you would do, to be honest.”

Aang grinned back mischievously, no trace of upset in his eyes remaining in his eyes anymore. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Zuko chuckled, hands raised placatingly. “Not against me. I’ve had enough Pai Sho for a lifetime. You can play with Uncle.”

The exuberant expression on Aang’s face melted away again. “Are… are you going to look for your uncle?”

Zuko’s face fell again. Aang hurriedly tried to mollify him. “Or – or not. Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry if I crossed any boundaries.” He bowed his head, obviously trying to make himself smaller.

“No, no, it’s okay.” Zuko assured him, even as he felt the pangs in his heart sting. “I will. I need to make amends, I need to let him know how sorry I am. I can’t ever let this go until he knows.”

Aang nodded solemnly, a blend of understanding and self-loathing flitting in his eyes. “I think I would understand that more than anyone. Gyatso…” he heaved a gusty sigh, causing a few dead leaves scattered on the ground to fly up and swirl along with the currents. “I never said bye to him. Not really. It’s not much of a farewell if you only leave a letter, right?” He grinned wryly yet despondently.

Zuko thought of a certain gloomy girl he’d left behind with nothing more than a piece of paper and a few hastily scribbled words. A certain gloomy girl who still came through for him in the end. A girl who turned her back on everything and faced the wrath of one of the most dangerous people in the Fire Nation with nothing more than her steely resolve and knives as sharp as her wit.

“No,” he whispered, “it’s not.”

“Which is why it’s important that you make up with your Uncle,” Aang nodded. “I’d give anything to see Gyatso one last time. But even if I could, it doesn’t fix everything.” He stared into Zuko’s golden eyes. “You still have a chance. I don’t think you’d want to waste it.”

Zuko’s lip twitched into a slight, mournful smile. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Aang nodded in satisfaction and made to turn towards the door, but Zuko reached out and grasped his wrist.

“I think…” Zuko began, hesitant, unsure if it was a good idea to let the words spill out. “I think – I _know_ Gyatso would be proud of you, wherever he is now.”

Aang smiled tearfully (how many times was he going to make him cry today?) and scrubbed his hand against his nose.

“He would’ve liked you, Zuko. He was always a firm believer that people could change.”

That meant more to him than he’d ever willingly admit. To know that here stood an Air Nomad – one of the people his forefathers had sought to hunt down like it was some sort of sick sport, telling him that there was potentially another one of his people who would approve of Zuko standing here, within their own lands which have been so devastated by his nation, his people.

“So was my Uncle. I didn’t believe it, until I experienced it myself.” He let slip, vulnerability laced in his words. But he didn’t need to say more, not when it was clear Aang understood by the gentle pat he left on his arm and the warm glow of his face.

Two broken children, standing amidst the crumbling rubble of a civilization long stamped out due to nothing more than a megalomaniac drunk on his own perceived ideals for the world. Zuko wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at how unfair everything was. But there was no time to dwell on it, for the only way forward was to pick up the pieces and reassemble them into something better.

They left the giant Pai Sho table untouched, waiting for a player who has not yet arrived.

* * *

The tour finishes just in time for dinner. But despite Zuko’s best efforts, a forlorn cloud still seems to cling stubbornly to Aang. Not even Katara is able to cheer him up; not when the reassuring smile he offers doesn’t quite manage to reach his eyes.

It’s bedtime now, and Aang is currently morosely sitting in a corner he claimed for his own since the conclusion of dinner. Zuko wanders over with heedful steps, trying not to draw more attention than Aang’s mood already has.

“Hey,” he whispers quietly, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” Aang forces a tiny grin, “I’m fine.”

Zuko frowns and carefully settles in next to the airbender. “You don’t seem fine.”

“Today was fun,” Aang sighs, “but it was also bittersweet, you know? And I guess I just… thought it’d bring me more comfort than it actually did.”

“Is there…” Zuko began hesitantly, “is there anything I can do?”

“I’m not sure if there’s anything anyone can do.” Aang mumbles glumly. “But it’s alright. It’ll pass. Like the storm, you know?”

Zuko remembers a four-year old girl scampering into his room during stormy nights, trembling because she feared the lightning she so easily wields now. He’d already be sitting up in his bed, knowing she’d seek comfort from her big brother as rain lashed against the window and lightning streaked the sky. He used to curl her against his side with an arm wrapped around her waist and sing her lullabies to pass the storm, rocking them gently from side-to-side, murmuring quiet assurances that the storm will dissipate throughout the night and when they woke up the next morning, bright skies and sunshine will dominate again. She’d always slip away back to her own room just before dawn broke so their father wouldn’t scold her for her fear, but for those precious few moments, she was his to protect. It had been years since he’d comforted someone like that, but just because it had been a long time doesn’t mean he ever _forgot._

“Alright, that’s it.”

Aang only has enough time to blink in confusion before he’s hauled into Zuko’s side and then suddenly one arm is curled around his side protectively while a comforting scent of spices and campfire begins to surround him. Zuko starts humming and it starts in his chest, reverberating deep inside and melting Aang’s bones into a pile of mush because the vibrations are so, _so_ soothing. Actual words come after a couple more moments of humming and Zuko’s rasp feels like the brush of Appa’s tongue and it feels like safety and security and he never wants to leave this protection.

“ _Sleep,_ ” Zuko croons to him, soft and sweet, “ _and begin the day anew. Like light rays dappling over the forest grove, scatter your thoughts and be free._ ”

For someone who yelled more than they spoke, it was startling easy for his voice to lull Aang’s eyelids into drooping heavily. Zuko continued to sing, wistful, soft and slow, and pretends he’s not amused when Toph wiggles her way into the unoccupied space on his other side. Instead, he wraps his free arm around her like he’s doing with Aang, relishing the additional comforting weight curled against him. He tapers into a hum again, pressing his lips close to the crown of Toph’s head so that she can feel the vibrations (like he used to do with a different little girl, back when it would make adorable squeals and babbles escape from her toddler mouth). Aang breathes slow and deep next to him, a peaceful smile on his face as he dreams nothingness and Toph has settled into calm and quiet, on the way to dreamland herself.

He notices in the corner of his eye that the others have slowly entered the sleeping area as well, drawn by their curiosity to a sound they had never heard echoing through the quiet of the temple before. It doesn’t surprise him that they are unused to the way his voice could soften into something hushed and almost husky. Still retaining its distinctive rasp, but shedding any semblances of harshness.

He pretends he doesn’t notice Suki and Sokka curling up nearby, settling in to the thrums of his voice as he begins anew in a bid to put everyone and everything around his vicinity to sleep.

He pretends he doesn’t notice Hakoda smiling nostalgically as he remembers how singing children to sleep used to be his job, rocking wailing infants to sleep in the light of the moon, exhaustion weighing just as heavy as the duty of fatherhood.

He pretends he doesn’t see Chit Sang gazing at him in quiet awe, having never before witnessed a member of the royal family stooping low enough to croon children to sleep.

He pretends he doesn’t notice Katara, for once silent in her animosity, lie down wearily and shut her ever-glaring eyes with a little less caution than usual.

He pretends he doesn’t acknowledge Haru, Teo and The Duke slipping into their own pre-planned cuddle pile, shamelessly keeping their ears tuned to his voice as he sings the verse about dragons flying high in the sky and volcanoes erupting as they pass by, as if their lava could graze their scales like molten fingers.

He pretends there’s nothing going on in his surroundings, for fear of interrupting this moment; this moment where everyone can put down their arms, lower their guards, and just _breathe._

His voice fades to the sound of heavy, even breathing and light snores. He checks his grasp on Aang and Toph, making sure his arms wouldn’t get crushed in his sleep. It hit him then, as he gazed upon their young faces, still cushioned with baby fat, that these were children shouldering the burden of saving the world _(he shoved away the suspiciously uncle-sounding voice niggling him in the back of his head reminding him that he was a child too)_. Zuko focused on gingerly lying down with two twelve-year olds clinging to him tightly, all the while letting the last vestiges of the song whisper through the night. He had no doubt that they were both fully capable masters of their element, but even they weren’t exempt from whatever fate had in store for them. And although he can’t shield them from their destiny, he can at least make sure they rest well. Once he’s satisfied they’re both successfully cocooned into his warmth, Zuko finally succumbs to sleep himself, with the remnants of his thrumming hums carried off into the cool air of the night.

He dreams of nothing, and it’s the best sleep he’s had in years.

In the morning, he will rise with the sun and gently coax a drowsy Aang into early morning meditation. They will return to everyone already awake and bustling about with the day’s chores. He will say nothing when everyone gets everything done faster than usual because they were all so well-rested. And at night, when Agni had long left the horizon and Yue sheds her light upon the cold stone ground, he will settle down with Toph and Aang again, and pretend he doesn’t feel the weight of expectant gazes around him (it startles him how quickly they seemed to adopt this routine, as if he’s been lulling them to sleep for years rather than only one time) when he starts his lullaby anew, hoping to drive away the nightmares plaguing all these children for just one more night.

He'll reminisce as he pours his soul into his song, of times where the weight of the world didn’t press so heavily upon his shoulders, where he could hold a little hand in his without fear of getting singed, where he looked upon a man who he could call ‘Father’ and feel no trepidation attached to the term, where his mother would lead him to the turtleduck ponds, scattering bread crumbs and spinning tales that followed him even into dreams.

And then he’ll look around him, at the faces fighting to stay awake, at the eyes heavy and half-lidded, at barely concealed yawns and bright-eyed children born and bred into war yet still shining with the kindness that the darkened world desperately needs.

And he’ll think that maybe this is all the family he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> This was purely self-indulgent and I’m not remotely sorry.
> 
> (Also did anyone notice how the tense changes from past to present to future? No? Just me? Ok XD)


End file.
